


Trigger

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Mutantstuck [14]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (mentioned) Cronua Ampora, (mentioned) Rufioh Nitram - Freeform, Gen, Prompt: Gunpoint, Promptober, kankri just shoots a guy, that's it that's the fic, tw: guns, tw: murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 10:43:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20906336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Stop that. No thoughts like that. You can only have useful thoughts right now, like the one wondering if you remember how to take the safety off the gun.Despite significant misgivings, Kankri accepts a gift from Rufioh. It's a good thing that he does.





	Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that despite this being listed in the Mutantstuck series, it takes place significantly before the trolls end up on earth.

Rufioh is the one who gives you a gun, and no, he does not tell you where he got it. You ask—of _course_ you ask, despite what the others say about you you're not an idiot. Blood color has nothing to do with intelligence, despite what the others might say or think. 

He refuses to tell you even when you threaten to not take the weapon. You don't know where he learned this flavor of stubbornness, or who taught him how to talk you around to things—Aranea, maybe, for the latter at least. Damara for the former, and she's probably where he got the gun as well. Cronus might be more likely to know the kind of people who'd supply weapons like this to five-sweep-olds, but he's not very likely to do anything with the knowledge. You suppose Meenah's equally possible, but she'd never hand it over to Rufioh without a price so prohibitive that he'd think twice about his determination that you'll take it. 

Which you do. Eventually. It takes him a good hour to talk you around, but he manages it and leaves _with_ your promise that you'll keep the idiotic weapon on you, and _without_ the gun. 

You didn't ask for this and you don't much like it, but you suppose that a promise is a promise. Sometimes you dislike your own morality...

* * *

Porrim thinks it's cute, when she finds out. You hate that, but it does mean that she finds an odd shoulder holster for you (or makes it; you don't know where she'd get one in that specific shade of red otherwise) that lets you keep the stupid thing safely hidden under your sweater. 

(The only thing the sweater's good for. Karkat's lucky that he's been in his dull but much safer grey long enough that Porrim's forgotten that he shares the lack of a caste with you, if she ever knew that.) 

Not that you consciously think about any of that. You have the right to pretend that you don't have certain thoughts, don't you? Just like you have the right to deflect any line of conversation that'll lead to any of the others realizing that you've got a slightly more effective way of defending yourself than you did before Rufioh decided you were too much of a sitting quackbeast. 

(His words. You're firmly of the opinion that anyone who'd get near enough to think about molesting you in any way would likely realize that you're basically marked as belonging to a jade and have obvious ties to a seadweller. If potential assailants mistake those ties for quadratic ones, well...you suppose a lie's better than bodily harm.) 

(That entire train of thought leads to the conclusion that the gun's not worth carrying. But you _promised._) 

(You need to stop thinking thoughts that you have to pretend you're not thinking. This is getting ridiculous.) 

Anyway. You have a gun, you're vaguely aware of how to use it, you go about your business like everything is perfectly fine. The others would claim that you never shut your mouth, but that's not quite true, because when you hear the two bluebloods talking at the table at the front of the cafe, you're being quiet enough that they don't even register you as a living being, let alone a troll who might be listening. 

You're almost ashamed to admit that you only start listening when you hear the word _candy._

"—like it's that fuckin' bright, geddit? All the stories weren't kiddin' when they said mutants bleed candy, I'm serious." 

"You're being a dick," his friend points out, flicking a crumb off their table and (presumably) onto the floor. You'd be a bit more sure on where it ended up if you dared turn your head, but you don't intend to show that you're listening at all; peripheral vision it is, at least until Cronus shows up and gives you an excuse to look a bit closer. "They keep track of mutants, you can't just—" 

"They? Who the fuck is they?" 

"The drones? I dunno, the highbloods? Somebody?" 

"The drones don't know a fuckin' thing, dude, you know they're colorblind unless it's slurry—" 

"Oh yeah? How do they know not to touch mutants, then?" 

"Fuck, good point—but see, that's why mutants wear red, they gotta wear red. It's like, marking them, and this kid ain't marked." 

You really hope that they are not paying enough attention to see how much you relax at hearing that. It isn't _you,_ at least—

"—he's just got that stupid culty symbol instead of something normal, and you know nobody looks twice if one of _them_ falls off the map, right?" 

Culty symbol? 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Oh _no._

Not you. _Karkat._

This is actually worse. 

You may have zoned out for a moment, because the next thing you catch is the second blueblood huffing and telling the first, "You're a freak. You know that, right?" 

"Oh c'mon, he'll be fun!" 

"Ew. You need a kismesis." 

"This'll totally be better than a kismesis—" 

"_Ew._" 

This is the epitome of not good. This is a category of not good that you are not sure how to react to. Maybe you can get Cronus to— 

No, because Cronus is _still_ not here and the second blueblood just got up—possibly out of disgust, you're not exactly sure—and the first is following them out of the cafe, and _why_ in the name of all that's good are you getting up to follow them? Have you no self-preservation left at all? Evidently not, because you end up in the doorway, watching as the first blueblood makes some kind of advance to the second (pale, if you had to guess) and is immediately rejected. You end up hesitating for only a few seconds before you give up and follow him down the street. 

(He's going to see you and _you're_ going to be the one who has something horrible happen to him.) 

(At least it won't be Karkat.) 

_Stop_ that. No thoughts like that. You can only have useful thoughts right now, like the one wondering if you remember how to take the safety off the gun. You should. You really should, Rufioh showed you four times and made you do it four more before he was satisfied that you knew what you were doing. (You don't, but it's the thought that counts.) Then again, there's a limited number of moving parts here, you're sure that you can work it out before—

"Now who the hell are you?" 

—you get noticed. Or not. 

Instead of answering that question, you freeze up. That's not helpful, as it gives the blueblood time to close most of the distance between the two of you until he's close enough to reach out and snap your neck. (He probably can't do that. Not every cobalt is like Horuss and Equius.) 

"...huh." He cocks his head to one side, looking you over, then grins to show teeth that're unnervingly close to the shape of his sharply triangular horns. Now, you know you shouldn't judge by physical appearance, but everything about that smile _screams_ that this is a predator, that you're in so far over your head... "_Another_ candyblood? Holy shit." 

"I'd prefer you didn't call me that." What are you _doing._ Why are you saying that when he's two feet away from you, when he's actually in the process of taking that last step closer. Why are you not doing something—oh wait, yes you are.

You're not sure what he expected you to do, but you're fairly sure that he wasn't expecting the gun. He actually takes a step back, and you feel a little flash of pride at being able to intimidate someone who'd usually see you as unfathomably beneath him, before you remember that you've just caused a new problem without actually...solving the first one. 

Unfortunately, his shark-toothed grin only falters for a second before returning full force, just as cocky as it started out. "Cute," he says, and goes to grab the gun (which is _yours,_ it's yours, you're allowed to have something to keep yourself and Karkat safe, this is why Rufioh gave you this and he wasn't wrong to do it, you were the one who was wrong, you were wrong to try to talk him out of it) and you remember _exactly_ how to take the safety off. 

It's very simple, you see. One little motion to flick a switch from _safe_ to _not safe_, a fraction of a second to make sure that the end is pointed correctly at him, no time at all to put pressure on the trigger. 

It is much louder than you expected it to be. 

The second shot, which you put somewhere between his chest and his forehead, isn't as loud. At least it doesn't seem to be. Then again, your ears are ringing. The third shot doesn't hit him, you think. 

Or maybe it does, because somewhere between the third shot and when the fourth one would have been if you'd pulled the trigger again, he hits the ground and you realize that that's not a troll anymore. That's a corpse. 

Dropping the gun would be an understandable reaction, but you do not drop the gun. Instead, you remind yourself that breathing is necessary to continue functioning, and do that a few times. There's no one here, so even with the amount of noise you just made you have a moment. You can take a breath before you flick the safety back on and tuck the gun back under your sweater where it belongs. 

Yes, it belongs there now. And you are going to walk home—not run, walk—and reload it, and then you are going to text Cronus and castigate him for leaving you waiting at the cafe for much longer than he was supposed to, until you gave up and went home. 

Which is what you did. 

That's all you did. 

Nothing happened. Cronus stood you up and you walked home. 

That's all.


End file.
